


Parity

by rayvanfox



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Dom!Q, Knifeplay, M/M, Power Play, Sub!Alec, Sub!Bond, explicit rating for later chapters possibly?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jesus. Hold up. What do you want, exactly?”<br/>“Simply to offer you a pleasant evening, no strings attached.” <br/>Bond’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t voice his question.<br/>Z leaned in, his elbows on the table, and spoke quietly to Bond. “Look, it’s clear you know how to sub. And I’d be willing to bet you like it more than you’ll admit. Q is the best dom I know, myself excluded of course.”<br/>“But why exactly are you--”<br/>“I’ve heard you on comms. Even for you, the sheer volume of innuendo you level at him borders on obscene. Why the fuck haven’t you made a play for him yet?”<br/> “I--”<br/>“My God, James. This guy has got your number.”<br/>“Shut it, Alec. Go hit on Moneypenny and get your shins kicked for the effort. Saves me mashing my toes on them right now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the offer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kryptaria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kryptaria/gifts).



> This started as a birthday ficlet for Kryptaria, and has now started to spiral out of control. not sure where it's headed yet. or how often it will update. fair warning now.

“You are a complete wanker. And you know I don’t use that term lightly.”

“Yes, but you love me for it, don’t lie.”

“God, Z. Why today?”

“You know why. Because birthday sex is fucking great. Why else?”

“But it just seems desperate. I’d rather forego the fleeting possibility of birthday sex and avoid the lasting, crippling shame of being turned down by a fucking double oh.”

“He won’t turn you down. I know what I’m doing for fuck’s sake.”

“You are a bloody interfering arse and I have no faith in you doing anything but embarrassing me to the utmost of your ability. You are at my god damned place of employment, you berk. Act like a civilised human being even if you aren’t one. Or go the fuck away.”

“Nope. Sorry, mate. It’s for your own good.” Z wiped his mouth with his knuckles and stood up from the corner table in the canteen, easily skirting the subtle grab at his jacket that Q had attempted in a last ditch effort to contain the madness. Or brilliance, depending on who you asked.

Q hissed his name as he stepped toward the table with the two blond agents, each more ruggedly handsome and fit than the other. Z looked back over his shoulder and, with a wink, mouthed the words ‘trust me’. Q sighed and let his head fall to rest on his forearms on the table in front of him. 

It was their 30th birthday. And Z knew for a fact that it had been since before Q had been promoted that he’d been properly fucked. Which was a tragedy, if he had anything to say about it. Also, he was sick of seeing Q roll his eyes in false dismissal and subtle jealousy every time Z mentioned getting some. Now was as good a time as any to push the envelope since Q never would. Just because he was good at holding the power in the bedroom didn’t mean he knew how to wield it in his personal life. Z was more than happy to take one for the team and help pick up the slack in that area.

Z slid gracefully into the empty seat at the agents’ table and, before either of them quite registered he was there, nicked a chip off of the blue-eyed one’s plate. 

“Bond, right?” He got a blank nod. Of course he wouldn’t register surprise, too well trained for that. How promising. “We’ve met, but I’m not sure you were aware. It’s possible you mistook me for--”

“Jesus, another Q.” It was the square-jawed, green-eyed one that interrupted. 

“Close. Very close. Name’s Z. And you are…?” He held out his hand as he held the last word, by way of introduction. This one was more his type, aside from obviously being a dominant. 

“Alec, shut up and stop flirting.” Bond spoke up just as Alec and Z clasped hands, each gripping hard. Alec’s eyes crinkled, both in amusement at Bond’s whinge and surprise at Z’s strength. “Nice to meet you, allow me to--”

“I hate to disappoint you but it would never work.” Z heard Bond respond to his statement with a laugh muffled by a clearing of his throat as he watched Alec’s eyes go wide. “I don’t sub, and clearly, neither do you.”

Alec leaned back with a wary look at Z and a quick ‘wtf’ glance at Bond. Z turned his attention that direction as well, since there lay his objective. 

“Well, Z, Q’s Goth twin, to what do we owe the pleasure of your--”

“Punk, not goth. Less eyeliner.”

“More’s the pity…”

Z smirked at Bond’s blatant flirt, taking it as a good sign. ‘I’ll mention that predilection to Q. If you think his eyes are pretty now, you should see them with kohl on them. Especially when it gets smudged.”

“If he’d ever take his glasses off, I would be--”

“He only does that in the shower and in bed. Shall I tell him you would like to join him--” Z motioned as if he were going to stand and walk away. 

Bond reached out and plucked at his sleeve to ensure he wouldn’t actually leave. “Jesus. Hold up. What do you want, exactly?”

They all paused for a moment, the only acknowledgment any of them made that they registered Q’s quick, silent exit. The canteen door was barely closed before Z spoke as if no time had passed. “Simply to offer you a pleasant evening, no strings attached.” 

Bond’s eyebrows raised but he didn’t voice his question.

Z leaned in, his elbows on the table, and spoke quietly to Bond. “Look, it’s clear you know how to sub. And I’d be willing to bet you like it more than you’ll admit.” It was Alec’s turn to cover an ungovernable noise with a cough, though this one sounded more shocked than amused. Bond leaned back and adjusted his position on his seat. Another good sign. Z took the chance and continued. “Q is the best dom I know, myself excluded of course.” At that last admission Z couldn’t help throwing a glance at Alec, more in an enticing than a challenging way. 

Bond tried to hide the fact that he had to clear his throat once again before speaking. “But why exactly are you--”

“I’ve heard you on comms.” This time Z responded to Alec’s snort of disbelief with a quick aside. “I helped write the encryption he uses on his laptop. It’s child’s play to access his logs.” At Alec’s smirk he held a finger up to his lips conspiratorily. The green-eyed one was so easy to hook it was almost not worth it. Almost. He turned back to Bond hoping his face didn’t betray the triumph he felt. “Even for you, the sheer volume of innuendo you level at him borders on obscene. Why the fuck haven’t you made a play for him yet?”

Bond betrayed only the slightest hint of being nonplussed, Z didn’t miss it. “I--”

“My God, James. This guy has got your number.”

“Shut it, you. Go hit on Moneypenny and get your shins kicked for the effort. Saves me mashing my toes on them right now.” 

Alec grinned at Bond’s petty outburst, stretching and rising in a leisurely way, and clapped Z on the shoulder before smiling wolfishly at them both. “Fine, it’s clear you don’t need a wingman when you already have a pimp. Good day, comrades.”

Z watched Alec walk away long enough to get a huffed breath from Bond. He turned back to his target with a ‘can’t blame me for looking’ eyebrow raise, and saw concession at the sentiment mirrored in Bond’s own features. 

“You’ve hit that.” Z’s astonishment at the realisation caused him to blurt the statement out before he could stop himself. Or at least reword.

Bond’s grin turned into a full on smile, the wattage of which made Z squint. “Highly recommended.”

“I don’t s--”

“Well he does, but only for the right dom.”

Z looked down at his hands for a moment, trying not to get derailed by the images that pushed his brain off course. “Good to know. I’ll keep that info in my back pocket.”

“Try the breast pocket instead.”

Z threw a quizzical look at Bond, who seemed unable to stop grinning like the cat who ate the canary. 

“But, you were saying…?” Bond leaned forward and Z had to clench his jaw shut to keep from gaping at the full force of that intense gaze. When Bond went predatory no one was safe. Z suddenly wondered what exactly he was letting his brother walk into. 

“Today’s our birthday.” Z had lost a modicum of control and had to take a breath after letting that information slip. He hadn’t meant to say ‘our’. Bond’s eyebrow caught it, however, and there was no way of taking it back now. “Our thirtieth, to be exact.” He looked down at the circles he was drawing on the formica to regain focus. “I’ve been looking high and low for the perfect present for Q, when it struck me that it was sitting right in front of me.” He let his eyes flick up and flash against Bond’s gaze, not quite in challenge, but more in recognition. 

“Has Q been apprised of the fact that you are on this mission?”

“We don’t have secrets between us.” Z meant that as a reply and a warning, and it was clear Bond took it as both. 

“Is he monitoring it?”

Z was momentarily taken aback by the suggestion, smiling at the possibility that Bond was one step ahead of even him. “If he is, it’s news to me. But I wouldn’t put it past the nosy bugger.” They shared a grin at that and Z felt righted again. That was the moment he was certain Bond was a fantastic sub and for the first time in all this, he envied his brother their night together. 

“Well, my Quartermaster has access to my personal mobile number, if he wanted to text me the time and coordinates for a rendezvous, I would not fail to show, appropriately kitted out for the evening.” The smile Bond gave Z at the end of that statement was genuine and warm without a hint of conspiracy or suggestion. In spite of himself, Z was impressed. 

“Then I will let him know operation Happy Fucking Birthday is a go.”

“You do that. I’m going to go prepare myself for the challenge ahead.” The wink was so slight Z wasn’t sure it was intentional. And then he was. That smile was a killer.

Bond stood and crossed behind Z before he too put his hand on Z’s shoulder to bid him goodbye. He pressed a finger to a spot below Z’s collarbone, which, out of old habit made him flinch, and bent down to murmur into his ear. “I hope you too have a happy birthday, Z. Remember that bit of intel I gave you.” He gently poked Z’s chest once more, then smoothly moved away and out the door without looking back, yet fully conscious, Z was sure, that at least one set of eyes were trained upon his tight backside. 

Z shook his head and cursed under his breath, unconsciously pressing his hand to where Bond had last touched him. That’s when he felt an unexpected crinkle. He laughed out loud as he pulled a card from his breast pocket which had some cover name made out as a sales associate for a place called Universal Exports, but on the back was scrawled the name Alec and a phone number. Bond didn’t plant that card. He knew the difference between a pimp and a wingman.

“Happy fucking birthday, indeed,” Z muttered as he left the canteen, waiting to text the number until he’d given Q the thumbs up and at least left the goddamned building.


	2. the gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Right. Things you should know: I will not fuck you. I will allow you to get off, if you need that, or, I’m very good at not allowing it if that’s what you prefer. My needs are none of your concern. If you aren’t fully sober, turn around and leave right the fuck now, and don’t lie because it will take me only minutes to tell and you will deeply regret wasting even that much of my time. I’m very good at bondage, pain, knife play (with or without blood play), flogging of any kind, humiliation (but only if you ask for it), and I’ll do some roleplay, but I don’t do costumes. Oh, and I really like playing with fire and hot wax. Everything else, (and I mean everything) is negotiable. Fair warning: I’ve had no experience with CBT, but that doesn’t mean i’m not a quick study, and I have clamps that would probably work.”

It was the red glow of the cigarette end that caught Q’s eye and brought him close. Bond didn’t often allow himself the luxury of a smoke anymore, but as he wouldn’t be drinking if there were to be a scene later, he wanted something that would calm his oddly tingling nerves. 

They stepped together into the shadows by the stage door entrance. The National Theatre was an ugly building, but not a bad rendezvous point, as there were always people meeting up to go to a show, and loitering outside the building in the evening was thought normal. 

“007.” Q’s hands were in his jacket pockets and he didn’t make eye contact, preferring to look out over the river and the lights reflected off it. 

“Q.” Bond took another drag off his cigarette and was going to flick it away half finished when something made him hold it out to his Quartermaster. 

“Thanks, but I shouldn’t.” Q’s eyes didn’t leave Bond’s hand, however, and so he left it in place until Q reached and brushed it delicately with his first two fingers. He spoke as he brought the fag to his mouth, fingers trembling slightly, waiting until the question was asked to press the filter to his lips and take a cheek-hollowing drag. “Are you always this bad an influence?”

Bond watched Q’s obvious enjoyment of the nicotine hit for a moment before answering. “Have you met Alec?” Q smiled at that, crinkling his eyes against the smoke that curled into his hair. “Though it seems I’m not the only one who has a friend that likes getting him into trouble.”

Q chuckled, smoke billowing from the sides of his widely smiling mouth. “Z is a menace. But I love him.” The warmth in his voice was apparent, and welcome.

“I would have said he was a caution, nothing more. He seems to have your best interests at heart.”

“Which is exactly the problem.” Q took a second quick drag from the cigarette then offered it back to Bond, who shook his head at it. Q didn’t flick it away, nor did he take a third pull on it. He left it burning between his fore and middle fingers, his thumb flicking at the nails of his ring and pinky, his elbow supported on the wrist of his other hand, whose arm was crossed over his stomach. 

Bond had never seen him in such a casual stance before, it was illuminating, and oddly pretty. He took a step closer and lowered his voice so that he could lean in slightly. “Got us here, didn’t he?”

Q stilled and looked closely at Bond. “Yes. But how? What did he tell you about me? About this evening?”

Bond straightened and slipped his hands into his pockets. “That it was your birthday. That, apparently, he could tell from a mile off that I liked to sub…” Q’s intake of breath made Bond’s eyes crinkle. “No, it’s all right. He didn’t offend me. There’s no shame in being a switch. Practically part of the job description. Even Alec knows that.” Bond looked at Q to see if there was a hint of recognition as to what Alec was most likely up to this evening. He saw none, but his Quartermaster’s tells were the most subtle of any non-agent he’d ever seen, even after working at MI6 for so many years.

“One thing he neglected to mention was whether I was walking into a scene of a sexual nature or not.” Bond didn’t look away from Q’s face, but for his part, Q couldn’t make eye contact and answer at the same time.

“Jesus. Leave it to Z to miss the point entirely…” Q scuffed the toe of his shoe on the pavement before glancing up again. “He told me he would ensure that I enjoyed birthday sex on my 30th. He was certain you were…” His gaze flicked down Bond’s body then self-consciously back up. “...up for it. The idiot can’t imagine sex without power play, so he focused on that part.” Bond smiled at the flirtation that had happened between Z and Alec and nodded. Q continued. “He gets protective of my preference, thinking people won’t see me as a top, let alone a dominant, so he lays it on thick. My apologies.”

“None necessary. The surprise was that he was right about me, not what he said about you. Though I guess if he’s been listening in on comms, one follows the other quite obviously.” Q glanced sharply at Bond as he flicked the cigarette away, having let it burn down unnoticed. 

“The fucker. I’ll have to rewrite that encryption code one of these days.”

Bond chucked and stepped slightly closer. “He said the two of you had no secrets between you.”

“He exaggerates. About everything. He’s also excruciatingly nosy. And I humour him too much.”

“You two are very fond of each other, aren’t you?” Bond’s voice went gentle on the question, not trying to pry, simply speaking in recognition. 

“We’ve gone through the wars together. Relied on each other easily as much as you and Alec.” His eyes held a hint of challenge in them. “But I don’t want to talk about my brother tonight. Even if it is his birthday.”

“Quite right. He’s got his own entertainment for the evening. No need to worry about him.”

Q’s voice went sharp. “What ‘entertainment’? Report.”

Bond failed to hide his smirk at the Quartermasterly tone. “It’s quite possible that he took Alec up on his offer.”

“Offer? For what?? Z doesn’t --”

“Alec does. Rarely. In all likelihood Z has his hands full right about now, but I don’t doubt he can handle it.”

“You aren’t seriously thinking--”

“Odds that sex will be involved are--”

“Virtually nil.”

Bond nodded at the interruption. “But there is little chance they won’t both enjoy the power play.”

“Oh, God. Bond, we live together, Z and I. We can’t go home to that…”

“Come to mine. I should have any...accessories you might want.” Q coloured subtly but sweetly at that statement. Bond couldn’t help linking arms with him. “Are we headed directly there?”

“I, ah...I hadn’t thought...” He stopped still and gave Bond an assessing look. “Have you eaten? What have you had to drink?”

“I haven’t. I’ve had nothing but a couple of litres of water since I left the canteen around noon.” Q’s look of approval was purposely given and readily received. “If you haven’t eaten either might I suggest a place nearby that has some marvelous vegetarian options? I don’t want to overstep my bounds here, but I personally believe that one shouldn’t have to plan their own birthday festivities.”

“You and Z both, clearly. I’m content to be in your hands until we reach the bedroom, but after that…”

“Yes sir.” 

 

~~

 

“Right. Things you should know: I will not fuck you. I will allow you to get off, if you need that, or, I’m very good at not allowing it if that’s what you prefer. My needs are none of your concern. If you aren’t fully sober, turn around and leave right the fuck now, and don’t lie because it will take me only minutes to tell and you will deeply regret wasting even that much of my time. I’m very good at bondage, pain, knife play (with or without blood play), flogging of any kind, humiliation (but only if you ask for it), and I’ll do some roleplay, but I don’t do costumes. Oh, and I really like playing with fire and hot wax. Everything else, (and I mean everything) is negotiable. Fair warning: I’ve had no experience with CBT, but that doesn’t mean i’m not a quick study, and I have clamps that would probably work.”

During this monologue Z had ushered Alec in the front door and through the house to the kitchen, divested him of his coat, and brought him to the door of a darkened room that was presumably his bedroom. At the end of his speech he flipped on the light to reveal a bed with a frame of solid iron bars, a desk crammed with at least three computers and multiple external hard drives, a wardrobe with mostly black clothing spilling out of it, and an entire wall of BDSM accoutrement. Hanks of rope of different colors, weights, and lengths, cuffs of different materials and sizes, every type of flogger and paddle Alec had ever heard of, including a rawhide whip, a gleaming collection of knives, needles, and scalpels, and much more. 

“So tell me what you are into, what you want me to call you, and what your safeword is.”

Alec’s eyes were on the knives, and he was drawn to them as if by a magnet. “Arkangelsk.” 

“Gesundheit.”

“That’s my safeword.”

“Ah...gotcha. And am I to stick with Alec? Or is ‘agent’ more rewarding for you?”

“I don’t care what you say. Use any term under the sun, just don’t call me ‘dearie’.”

“No fear. But does that mean, ‘boy’, ‘baby’, and ‘pet’ are acceptable?” Z took a step closer on each of the words, leaving him just behind Alec’s right shoulder as the latter examined a severely sharp folding knife. The proximity oddly took Alec’s breath away. Z was only a couple inches shorter than him, but held himself in a way that felt much more powerful than Q. This evening had either been a very good idea, or a very bad one. Either way, Alec was excited for it. His heart sped up as one of Z’s hands snaked up over his shoulder to the nape of his neck and the other ghosted down his forearm aiming for the knife in his hand. 

"Maybe even ‘darling’?”

“Yes.” It was more a breath than a word. 

“Perfect. Then why don’t you let me…” 

And in a moment, Z had grabbed Alec’s hair, pulled his head back, and, gripping surprisingly hard, guided his hand to hold the knife at his own throat. 

Alec had caught his breath and his footing just in time to pull his response back from the abyss his training wanted to fling him into. It was a near miss, however.

“Do remember, my dear Z, I’m an agent of Her Majesty’s Secret Service. I’m only in this position because--”

“Because you have allowed it, yes.” 

“And you are a only in your position because…?”

Z looked closer at Alec’s eyes and loosened the hold on his hair. “Oh. Because you decided ahead of time that I’m not a threat.” Alec’s grin was mildly unnerving. “And yet...hang on. Are you armed?”

“I knew you were a quick one.” 

Z let go of Alec completely and stepped back. Alec pulled his gun out from its waistband holster, then a folding knife from his jeans pocket, and a fixed blade from his boot. He laid them all next to the array of Z’s knives, and Z couldn’t help reaching to touch the exposed knife’s edge. He whistled in appreciation. 

“Are these off limits? The blades, not the gun, obviously.”

“Do you get everything you want?” 

Z looked up at Alec to gauge the point of the question. “Mostly, eventually. Why do you ask?”

“You have no qualms about asking an assassin to allow for his own weapons to be used against him. Either you are incredibly stupid--”

“I--”

“--which I don’t believe in the slightest -- having nothing to do with your relation to Q, even -- or you are incredibly spoiled.”

Z huffed out a breath at that. Then he looked Alec dead in the eye for a good 15 seconds, a smile slowly growing at the corner of his mouth. “So, may I?” 

He reached very slowly for the fixed blade knife, never taking his eyes off of Alec’s face. Alec allowed him to close his fist around the handle before moving to within 8 inches of his face. 

“Do you ever take ‘no’ for an answer?”

“If I ever hear it actually being said, I take it under advisement...” 

Alec chuckled, despite himself. “Well, this is going to be fun. Just try not to trigger any of my automatic killing responses.”

Z’s eyes widened, but the smile never left his face. “Noted.”


End file.
